


all the things once left unsaid

by blackhawkdown



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Canon Compliant, Deleted Scene, F/M, and you'll never convince me they didn't Have A Talk, it was a long flight back to ember island after dealing with yon rha, zuko talks about his scar
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-28
Updated: 2019-08-28
Packaged: 2020-09-28 11:16:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20425079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackhawkdown/pseuds/blackhawkdown
Summary: It was a long flight to Ember Island, and something had to give.





	all the things once left unsaid

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this to kind of bridge the gap between when Katara and Zuko left Yon Rha to stew in his own cowardice, and when they got back to Ember Island and she formally announced her forgiveness. (I was finally spurred to actually write it thanks to a post by royaltealovingkookiness over on tumblr.) It's not like... overtly shippy... but it's a conversation I desperately wanted them to have in canon.

“You think I should have killed him.”

Zuko hadn’t realized how close he was to drifting off to sleep, Appa’s reins loosely coiled around his hands and the front wall of the saddle keeping him upright, until he registered Katara’s voice and regained wakefulness with a start. “What?” he asked, voice slightly raspy from disuse.

It had been hours since the confrontation with Yon Rha, and Katara hadn’t said a word except to ask him to steer Appa so that she could get some sleep. Several quiet moments passed, and he wasn’t entirely sure he hadn’t imagined it.

But eventually she spoke again. “You think I should have killed him.” It wasn’t a question, but it didn’t sound like an accusation, either. Zuko turned to glance back at her, eyebrows slightly raised. Her expression was curiously devoid of emotion, not even the judgment he thought he’d see there. And she was waiting for a response.

“No. I don’t,” he said, and Katara’s eyes finally met his, widening in surprise.

“Why?”

He took a breath, considering his words. If he were more sure what she was hoping to hear, he thought he’d have a better answer--but then, that might have defeated the point. This wasn’t a conversation he wanted to have from a bison-length away, though. He set Appa’s reins against the back of his massive neck and climbed over the saddle horn, settling in next to Katara.

With a sigh, Zuko leaned his head back, focusing on what he could see of the stars, visible through the top whisps of the clouds Appa preferred to fly through. “It was your choice,” he said, lifting one shoulder in half a shrug. “It always was. I just wanted to help you get there, so you could make it.” He almost winced at how _awkward_ the words sounded--and felt--coming out of his mouth. He wasn’t Uncle Iroh, ready with ancient proverbs and calming tea to help someone cope with an emotional dilemma like this. But he was all Katara had, right now, and he could only hope to be enough.

“Would you have done it?”

That was another question entirely, and Zuko didn’t miss the way Katara’s voice started to crack like ice over the words. He let out a breath, blowing his bangs from his eyes, still focused on the sky above. He wasn’t sure he could handle what he might see in hers, just then. “When I had the chance, I didn't take it.”

Katara shifted so abruptly that Zuko’s eyes were drawn to her, almost by instinct--a part of him wanted to quail beneath that hard, bright blue stare, but he met her gaze evenly, biting back the defenses that wanted to crawl from his lips. She didn’t look like she was judging him, he realized a beat later--she looked... _concerned_. There was a crease between her eyes that he’d come to recognize as worry. She held her lower lip between her teeth, as if unsure whether she should say what she wanted to, but the words burst forth anyway. “Who was it? What happened?”

“It was my father.” Zuko’s response was immediate--he didn’t even think about how the words might sound to someone who’d never heard of the Agni Kai during which the Fire Lord banished his only son. It was, he realized with a start, the first time he’d told the truth about what happened to someone who didn’t already _know_.

He’d mentioned his scar to Katara once before, after all, but he hadn’t felt ready to share the shame that burned deep in his heart. Back then, he’d still believed it was his fault.

“Your _father_?” came Katara’s pained gasp of shock, and Zuko closed his eyes, unable to handle the intensity of her _empathy_. It threatened to break down the last of his self control, and he'd need it to make it through the rest of his tale.

“I told you, once, about my scar. How it marked me, _cursed_ me.” He took a deep, shuddering breath, releasing it slowly. Ever since the Day of Black Sun, when he’d finally accepted his own worth and renounced the father who’d tried to steal that from him, he’d had a lot of time to think about everything that had happened. But somehow, actually _talking_ about it made the wounds feel fresh and painful, and it was only when he felt Katara’s warm, reassuring touch on his arm that he found the strength to continue. “I was thirteen years old when my father challenged me to an Agni Kai.”

He could practically feel the shock radiating from Katara as she drew in a sharp breath, though she didn’t speak. She may not have understood the words, but the context only pointed in one direction.

“I was banished, after that. Sent to chase down the Avatar, even though he hadn’t been seen in over a century. For so long, I thought the only way I’d win back my honor--and my father’s love--was by capturing him.”

Zuko finally opened his eyes, glancing over at Katara and trying for a shaky smile. Her eyes glimmered with unshed tears, but he tried to ignore them--if he saw her crying, he’d probably start, and then he’d never get through the rest of it. So he turned his gaze back up to the sky. “After... after Ba Sing Se...” He gulped, hoping he wasn’t about to remind Katara all the reasons she hated him by mentioning that moment beneath the city when he’d made a horrible choice, “I thought I had everything. I got to go back home, I had my honor, my father’s trust, my place as Crown Prince. But it... it...”

“It wasn’t right,” Katara supplied, her voice almost unbearably soft.

Zuko nodded. “I was trying to shove myself back into a place I didn’t _fit_ anymore, for the love of a man who... who was all too happy to maim his own son for speaking out of turn. And I realized he didn’t deserve my love, or my respect. So I left. During the eclipse.”

“The invasion,” she murmured. “The one Ozai was ready for.”

With a hollow laugh, Zuko met her eyes again. “Yeah. I could have just left in the chaos, but I wanted to look my father in the face one last time. I thought... I don’t know. Maybe that there was some part of him, deep down, that loved me like a father should. But I was kidding myself.” He sighed, looking down now, as his hands twisted in his lap. “He shot lightning at me. I redirected it. I could have shot it back at him--he was defenseless, it takes time to build a charge, and I could have...”

He trailed off, shaking his head. “But I didn’t. I shot it at his feet instead. Because killing him...” He stopped, voice suddenly thick as he tried to swallow past the lump in his throat.

“It wouldn’t have been worth it,” Katara finished for him. He nodded. The moment stretched in silence for several beats before she spoke again. “Zuko, I’m... I’m so sorry. I had no idea-”

He was shaking his head. “Don’t. Please. I haven’t talked about it to... anyone, in a very long time, but I just... I just wanted you to know that I understood. I know why you needed to face him, and I know why you couldn’t kill him.”

When he met her eyes again, she was smiling softly, and he couldn’t help but smile a little in return. “Thank you, Zuko. For being there for me. And for telling me... just, for understanding.”

The lump was back in his throat and he didn’t trust his ability to speak, so he just nodded. A few moments later, he felt Katara’s weight against him as she leaned to the side, her head on his shoulder as she drifted off to sleep.

Slowly, his head lowered to rest against hers, and then he slipped into unconsciousness.

It was a peace he hadn’t known since he’d gone back to the Fire Nation. And for the first time in months, his sleep wasn't plagued by nightmares.


End file.
